How the Grinch Saw the Hatchling
by PutMoneyInThyPurse
Summary: Part of my de-aged!Toothless 'verse. The Academy dragons react to their queen being de-aged. Mostly Hookfang-centric. Spoiler: He's a grouch.


**Note: The dragons' names for themselves - Rock-Tail, Fire-Scale, and so on - are the invention of the wonderful 10Blue10, here on FFN, and used with permission.**

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"Does he _ever_ put that hatchling down?" Hookfang bursts out, watching their new baby dragon and his self-appointed human guardian walking across the village square, the tiny Night Fury balanced on Hiccup's shoulders, his front paws clasped securely in Hiccup's hands. Every so often Hiccup breaks into a jog, and little Toothless squeals with delight.

"They're going to change back in a month," Meatlug purrs, watching the tiny black wings flap excitedly. "Let him enjoy it while he can."

"Enjoy? It's _sickening!_ Dragon young aren't like humans, they need to walk _sometime!"_

"Well, _someone_ got up on the wrong side of his stable this morning," Belch drawls.

The dragons are having a hard time adjusting to a hatchling in their midst. Especially as the hatchling still smells like Toothless-Queen. As the queen's favorites, the Academy dragons have been splitting his duties. Fortunately, no scuffles or anything really requiring a queen's arbitration has broken out, but that hasn't stopped Hookfang from acting like Ragnarok is just around the corner. "It's not _natural,_ " the Fire-Scale grumbles.

"Relax, Hookfang," Stormfly tries mildly. "Try to enjoy the sun."

Academy lessons – such as they are without Hiccup and Toothless – are over for today. The dragons, after a lazy lunch, are lounging around on the hillside in the watery sunshine. Except for Hookfang, who's pacing and flaming. "My sire always said, contact with humans will drive you mad! 'You'll lose your mind if you allow yourself to remain in the company of humans, little one!' That's what he said!"

"And he was right," says Barf.

"Yes! –What?"

Belch snickers.

Stormfly nudges Hookfang with her hip, unfazed when he flames up. "Lighten up, Hookfang. It's an accident that could have happened to anyone."

"Anyone in contact with _humans."_ The Nightmare shudders. "Does that mean that any one of us could wake up tomorrow morning and find oneself a helpless, tiny fledgling?"

"Our riders would take care of us," Meatlug rumbles with a smile. "Aw, look, they're so cute!"

The Fire-Scale follows her gaze to where the baby dragon and his human have climbed up a grassy knoll, and are tumbling end over end downhill, tickling each other and squealing. Their laughter rings out in the summer air. His flame subsides, and he sighs deeply against Stormfly's flank, smoke pouring from his nostrils.

Belch nudges the Fire-Scale's long neck with his head. "Is our resident grouch _moved_ by the sight?"

"Shameful," Hookfang proclaims, voice trembling a little. "A predator could swoop in and snatch them up while they have their guard down."

"What predators?" exclaims Barf. "Have you forgotten that _we're_ the alpha predators here?"

"Not alphas. Alpha _predators,"_ Belch feels the need to clarify. "The day we're alphas is the day the island blows up."

"One should never let one's guard down," Hookfang says, with the air of a pat recitation. "Especially when things seem safe." In a less practiced tone, he goes on, "We haven't had a hatchling on Berk since Sn—since the humans' festival. It's not the season to have young ones on the island. Any difference in smell could be scented by a passing predator. A Cavern Crasher, for instance." He shudders. "They feed on hatchlings."

"But we've scent-marked him," Meatlug reminds him. It's true – the dragons go out of their way to nuzzle and lick baby Toothless, and Hiccup for good measure, every morning when they leave the house. Hiccup has given up trying to stop them, since it makes his little best friend so happy, blinking his big eyes at them and purring as he's covered with the scent of safety and friendship.

"He might be right," Stormfly says uncertainly. "And our Queen is – well, out of action. Our dragons might be slow to rally if there was an attack."

"Oh no, now he's given _you_ the jitters!" snaps Belch.

Hookfang draws himself up to his full – admittedly impressive – height. "I'm not jittery. I'm just pointing out the risks."

"It's a good thing we're here to guard them, then, isn't it?" Stormfly says softly.

She can't help being moved by the sight of Toothless and his human. They're all tuckered out from playing now, and are lying in the grass on their backs, tired but happy, smiling adoringly at one another. Hiccup rolls over onto his side, picks Toothless up, and flops onto his back again, plopping his little charge squarely onto his chest. Toothless curls up with his head tucked under Hiccup's chin, tail tip twitching happily. "Can't even put him down when he's lying down," Hookfang mutters.

"They make me want to have a clutch of my own," Meatlug croons. To Hookfang's alarm, she nuzzles his flank.

Barf and Belch look from the pair to the other dragons, and of one accord, curve their necks and heads into the shape of a stylized heart, snickering.

"Oh, grow up." Stormfly tosses her head. "Rock-Tails can't even breed with Fire-Scales!"

Meatlug's eyes widen, realizing what they're implying. "What? –Oh, you! _Really?_ That's the most immature—Hookfang's like a hatchling to me!"

That's the cue for the Zippelback to lose it completely, falling in the grass and shrieking with laughter, so loudly that even Hiccup and Toothless look up from nuzzling each other and look over to their hillock with intrigued smiles.

"The ferocious Fire-Scale, a hatchling!" chortles Barf.

"Where's your eggshell? You might want to crawl inside!" If reptiles had tears, Belch would be crying with laughter.

Hookfang bursts into flame and pounces, pinning Barf-and-Belch beneath him, his jaws threatening their necks with vengeance for this insult. They just keep laughing, and he realizes that this would have been the point when Toothless would intervene, either physically or with some snide remark to snap Hookfang out of it. But now he has no face-saving out. Is he really going to attack them? He pauses, uncertain, still poised to strike. Stormfly can't stop him. She's younger, and he's above her in the hierarchy, at least technically.

"Stand down!" Meatlug's uncharacteristically commanding tone rings out.

Hookfang almost slumps with relief and crawls off Barf-and-Belch. They side-eye him and keep snickering, but don't continue in the 'hatchling' vein. Just as well. Hookfang's scales itch and his gut tightens to imagine himself in Toothless' position, a hatchling slowly starving without its family, being shouldered aside and batted away from the feeding-station. Dragon hatchlings aren't as completely helpless as human babies, but they do need some care, especially when they're Toothless' size and can't fend for themselves yet. He shakes his head, trying to push away the thought that keeps coming back - what would become of him in Toothless' place. Last time he was out of commission from the blue oleander, the dragons were all sick – that was a piece of luck – but if it was just him shrunk to hatchling-size, his rider would get a new dragon and he'd be sleeping in the stables to be safe from predators. It's a way to fly for a Tiny-Wing, but he'd manage it – it's food that's got him worried.

He shakes his head. It's not as bleak as all that. He's not entirely alone. Perhaps Stormfly would take him 'under her wing', or Meatlug. And Toothless, of course, if he was back to normal. The ache in his gut intensifies as he looks over at Hiccup, holding and rocking baby Toothless as if he's the most precious thing the world has ever seen, right out there in the middle of the village, not caring who sees. The human brushes his cheek over the nubs at the top of his dragon's small head as Toothless makes little high-pitched warbles and croons.

Meatlug nuzzles Hookfang again, with a rumble that effectively silences Barf-and-Belch. "Apologies, Hookfang. I don't mean to treat you like a hatchling."

Stormfly gives Meatlug a nuzzle of her own. "We know you mother everyone. If your hide was as soft as your heart," she chuckles, "we'd all be in trouble when we go into battle."

"Speaking of mothering…" Barf gestures over to Toothless and Hiccup with a wing. The little one is yawning, getting ready for a nap in the warm sun.

"Oh," Meatlug says softly, and before anyone can react, she hovers up into the air and is on her way to the hatchling and his guardian. By the time Stormfly, Hookfang and Barf-and-Belch catch up, she's nuzzling and licking the pair. Hiccup grins up a welcome at her.

"Move over!" Stormfly lands on their other side, bending to groom the hatchling. Toothless lies back in Hiccup's arms, exposing his smooth little belly, and purrs loud enough to be heard on Dragon Island.

"Just love the attention, don't you, bud," Hiccup smiles, sitting up to better hold Toothless for his daily dose of nuzzles and licks. "Thanks, guys." As he looks up, Barf-and-Belch form their stylized heart again, and he giggles.

"A human is unfit to take care of a hatchling," Hookfang mutters. "He should be with his own kind."

Meatlug tilts her head. "You mean Nightwings, of whom we've never found a single one?"

"I mean _other dragons,"_ Hookfang insists. "A human will not take care of a helpless dragon. How long before he tires of him?"

The others all look from Hookfang to Hiccup, as if it's Hookfang who's lost his mind. Hookfang rumbles in frustration. "Listen to me! A drakaina has wings to tuck her hatchlings under. What will Hiccup do?"

Stormfly nudges him with her tail.

As they've been talking, Toothless' soft black eyelids have closed, and the little tummy is rising and falling in the even breathing of sleep. Carefully, without jostling him, Hiccup shrugs out of his fur vest and puts it back on inside-out, so that the fur is on the inside. Then he draws up his knees to lift Toothless closer and ease him into his vest. Sensing the softness of the fur wrapping around him, Toothless nuzzles into Hiccup's collarbone and murmurs. Hiccup cradles the hatchling to his heart and rests the side of his head on top of Toothless', whispering things that not even dragon ears can catch. As the others watch, Hiccup folds the other side of his waistcoat around Toothless, cocooning him completely. Toothless burrows into Hiccup, and the air is filled with the purr of a sleeping dragon in bliss. Hiccup smiles down at him, then slowly sinks onto his side, still with his waistcoat wrapped protectively around his beloved little charge. He looks up at the other dragons, serious and trusting. Then he closes his eyes.

Wordlessly, Meatlug shifts closer. Her wing isn't big enough to shelter them, so she takes up a protective position on their right. Stormfly moves to flank them on the left, extending her wing to partially cup around them. Barf and Belch lie down behind them, Zippleback tail curling around Meatlug.

Hookfang watches the rise and fall of their chests for a moment. Stormfly meets his eyes and blinks softly.

With a rumble, the Fire-Scale extends his mighty wingspan and wraps it around the whole, human, dragons and all. The sensation of their small bodies sleeping safe within his wings feels like a thorn being pulled out of your paw when you didn't even know it was there.

"Listen," he commands. "I'm doing this for camouflage against predators. They'll never guess there are _three_ adult dragons under here. If we get attacked, you start first, Stormfly, and then…" There's a shaking beneath his wings. "What are you all _giggling_ about?"

"Hookfang," says Meatlug kindly. "You're purring."

"I am _not—"_ Shells and flames, he _is._ Hastily he suppresses it, but it keeps rumbling out.

"It's instinct," Stormfly says before he can get too flustered. "Don't worry about it. Happens to all of us. Tell us your battle strategy, Hookfang."

"Oh," he says gratefully. "Well, first – if a predator comes, you attack first, Stormfly. Then while she takes the vanguard, Meatlug can circle around, while Barf and Belch…"

The dragons doze off in the summer air, but it's a long time before Hookfang joins the dragon pile in sleep. When he does, though, he's purring like a tractor, which won't be invented for another nine hundred years.


End file.
